


The Goddess & The Light

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fics [62]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Ask Fic, Drabble, F/M, Fantasy, Knight Peggy Carter, No Beta, Page Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steggy - Freeform, no edit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: Steve serves under Brock Rumlow, a vicious and cruel knight who he can't escape under. When things go to hell and his end is near, he expects his death to be a painful one. Yet, the blade never comes to pierce his heart. His eyes are forced to open to the reality that not everything is what it seems.Including death.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Tumblr Prompt Fics [62]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952281
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Goddess & The Light

This was the end, wasn’t it?

This isn’t how Steve ever saw his life ending. Sure, he didn’t think he’d ever get to live a grand and lavished life with riches piled around him and silk draped over his thin shoulders, but he thought he’d get to live a modest life. A well-deserved one with heart work and the respect of people around him.

Instead, it was coming to an end from someone else’s actions he was forced to follow. It wasn’t like he chose this life. To be this skinny, to be this frail and sick, and in almost constant need of some healer. Yet, this is the life that the Goddess had chosen for him. 

To become a page to a man that is known as a hero in the lands, but behind the chamber doors, he is ruthless and cruel as the rest of the knights that Steve has serviced while growing up. He bellows and hits him around the ears if he’s even a second late with his dinner or if he can’t get his hunting dogs to hush at night. He mocks Steve when he can’t breathe or even worst, mocks Bucky when the guy is giving commands around the table.

Bucky is the only reason he’s here, the only reason he stayed because he had made a promise a long time ago that they were together till the end of the line.

And that line ended today, with Bucky’s death fresh on his mind, at the end of a blade coming down onto him. 

Steve couldn’t even do justice to meet his maker in the eyes, raising his arm instinctively to try to block the sharp blade with just the thin chainmail he’s granted to wear.

He tenses, he waits. The blood is pounding in his ears. Yet, the blade never comes.

He never feels it slice through the chainmail like butter, never feels the sting of the metal as it slices through his skin and muscle and pierces his heart. 

Instead, what he hears is the sound of metal-hitting-metal, the clashing ranging in his ears. He opens his eyes to see a figure dressed in a full suit of armor, their helm hiding their face. Their armor is tarnished and battle-worn with knicks and dents all throughout it. The shaft of a bolt sticks out from the side, still lodged into place, but still, the figure fights on as if it’s nothing. 

Maybe they weren’t hurt and the armor had saved them. 

Shoving the figure above him back, his savior takes advantage and swings their weapon, an ancient claymore that is controlled with ease. The blade whistled through the air and strikes his attacker in the side, their mud-coated boot raising from the ground to strike them in the chest and send them tumbling back.

_ “Get up!”  _ The savior growls at the scrawny blonde.  _ “Take my horse and go. She’ll know where to take you. I’ll meet you there.” _

_ “But…” _

Why is he trying to protest? He’s being saved. An annoying voice, the voice that has been conditioned for so long after serving under Sir Rumlow as his page, tells him he should stay, search for his Lord and apologize for being useless and not being able to help them in battle. 

Instead, the figure’s horse, a large beast with the kindest, most-human eyes he’s ever seen nips him by the back of the shirt like he’s nothing but a scrawny kitten. Steve grumbles and tries to fight but gives up when his strength is sapped from him as he is practically thrown onto the horse’s backside by the horse itself.

Since when do these things get so strong?

He’s forced to do nothing but wrap his arms around their soft, velvet main and tuck his face into the crook of his arm as they gallop away. From a battle that should’ve never been, a raid that had not been fair, and the blood that coats Steve’s hands will forever remain.

He’s not sure how long they ride, but by the time they’ve come to a stop, he’s cried himself out of tears. The horse knickers and stomps its hooves, indicating for Steve to get off. He slides to his feet and crumbles to the ground in front of a warm fire. It’s his only saving grace, this fire amongst the inky-black darkness around them.

They’re in the middle of a forest, thick trees are lined around them like fortress walls. He feels closed in and yet safe in the same manner. 

Steve watches as the black horse walks disappears into the forest and comes back out a wolf. He should be afraid if it’s not for both the guilt building up like an erupting volcano in his chest and the human hazel eyes the wolf wears. He walks around Steve twice before plopping behind him to offer comfort and warmth.

Steve isn’t sure if he nods off or if he just blacks out, but when he slowly comes to when the dawn is breaking, he’s not alone. The wolf is still behind him, but his savior is sitting beside him. The smell of meat over the fire is what gets his attention first, his stomach growling to remind him of his hunger.

It takes him a second, a long second to become aware that his savior has removed their armor until they sit in nothing but their tunic and pants.  _ She  _ smiles when Steve’s head rises from the wolf’s chest, offering the leg of an animal she’s killed for them to share.

“Eat,” she says in a soft tone, the wolf nudging Steve from behind to get him to sit up. “How do you feel?”

There’s a hesitation before Steve takes it, hunger winning over as he bites into the flesh. He watches her for a moment, watches the way she tears off a slice and hand feeds what should be a wild beast behind him. She’s beautiful. Battle-worn with bags under her eyes. Her hair is elegantly braided into a knot. Her eyes are the same as the wolf, brighter but more human and life in them. Her weapon rests by her side, within grasp. 

“I…” Steve opens and closes his mouth, dropping his eyes back to the fire. The leg is lowered and while he’s hungry he should eat, but the guilt is too much. “I killed them.”

“No,” she says in an accent he hasn’t heard before. There’s a firmness to her tone that makes him look up. “You did not, Steven. You did not give that order or swing that blade and if my memory serves me correctly, you tried to argue. You were punished, am I correct?”

He did. He tried to fight Rumlow on this but he ended up tied up back at camp. He witnessed Bucky’s death before his very eyes. The blade had come straight down onto his shoulder. It had been a painful death, he’d done all he could to try to escape, to comfort his dying friend. The tears burn his eyes and he buries his face into his hands. The wolf sniffs at his ears and comfortingly licks at his cheeks. 

She moves to sit beside him and he finds her arms around him, hiding his face in the crook of her elbow. The sobs take over him, hysterically sobbing until nothing is left in him. He can’t move, he doesn’t want to move or breathe. He wants to die.

Picking his head, she’s looking down at him with kindness he doesn’t deserve in her eyes. Her cheekbones are sharp, there’s a faint scar running from the side of her full lips. Her eyes, in the fire, look like pools of warm honey. Her fingertips stroke through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

“You did all you could,” she hums, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You fought with every last bit of your strength. I am sorry that I could not save your friend, but it does not mean he’s gone.”

“If you...if you tell me some bullshit about the Goddess and how she works in mysterious ways and we should praise her, I will…”

The bitterness is met with a fond chuckle, the woman shaking her head. “No, my fair Steve, I am not talking about the Goddess. While she does work in ways we do not understand, I am talking of something beyond most understanding. Do you know why Rumlow ordered a siege on that village? Why your friend fought so hard?”

At the shake of his head, she sighed and her arms only tightened around him. “Rumlow is cruel and vicious and follows by his own rules. If he follows another order, it would be Alexander Peirce given them.” The very name made him shudder, her hand resting on the side of his neck to bring him closer to her chest. Steve hated to admit it, but it was warm and comfortable here. “He ordered them dead for the simplicity that they had defied him, that they hoasted a traitor amongst their people. If anyone has blood on their hands, it is me.”

Pulling away, Steve frowned as he looked up at her, trying to read her passive expression. Her eyes dropped down to her lap, her arms pulling away from around him. “They were protecting me. I had begged them not to. I didn’t want it to be in vain. I told them I would leave - they didn’t let me. I told them to leave but they refused to leave their home. They died protecting me and that blood will always be on my heads, young Steven.”

Steve swallowed, his throat tightening. Alexander Peirce was their Lord, the man he served under Rumlow. Their King, their ruler, whatever title he wished to be called that day. He ruled over them with an iron fist, believing fear over love. Believing any who defied him were to die.

“And...Bucky?”

He almost didn’t want to hear the reasoning, but he had to. He needed to.

“Protecting me. I had ordered him not to, but he’s never good at following orders.” A small smirk was on her lips, but it died the second she met Steve’s baby blue eyes. “My name is Peggy Carter, I-”

“...am part of a secret organization hell-bent on trying to bring Peirce down. You’re their leader.” This time she did smile, even if the tears shined in her eyes.

“Yes. I am. I was injured and the town took me in. Someone betrayed me - we do not know who quite yet, by giving my whereabouts to Peirce. Bucky was our double spy within the group, he was able to warn me ahead of time. I admit I am still not quite healed, and that battle took everything from me.”

For the first time, Steve could see how exhausted she was. The pain that resonated in her features. She sagged and the wolf made a sound, nudging Peggy. She rubbed at his snout and kissed him between the eyes. “I’m fine, Michael.” At the name, she shrugged in Steve’s direction. “This is my brother - he was cursed by Schmidt to live his life as an animal. Howard and I attempted to reverse the spell but the only thing it’s managed to do is give him the ability to change form into any animal he’s seen.” 

Looking at the wolf, now he understood the human eyes. Why they were so kind and held such remorse for the loss of great life. He nuzzled Steve’s side and the warm tongue licked at his cheek again. Steve gently touched his side and gave a soft smile. 

“And Bucky?” He hated to press, to ask questions, but he had to know. “You said...he’s not gone? Is he...alive? Did he survive?”

“In a manner, yes. His soul lives on, he will be...reincarnated, as to when and where we just have to be patient and wait and see. If he’s smart, he will let Peirce continue to believe he’s dead. Any element we can get in surprise is a good mark in our book.”

Shifting Steve, Peggy laid back near the fire, Michael quickly laying underneath her head. She sighed and tried to sit up but found a shaken hand on her chest preventing her from doing so. “You protected me, so let me protect you while you rest. You’ve done enough, Peggy.  _ Thank you.” _

Her hand rested on his cheek, giving a warm smile. “I’ve heard great things about you, Steven. Your size does not define you, but you are right, I do need to rest. So do you. We are safe within these walls, the forest only listens to me. Come morning, we will continue our trek home. Lay with me. It will get cold.”

There was little hesitation as Steve lowered himself to her frame, resting in her arms with his head on his chest. The guilt that had weighed on him so heavily still resonated there. It would remain there for a long time to come, in the same manner, he knew it would remain on Peggy. 

There was still work to be done, lots of damage to undo, but it was a starting place to know whose company he was in.

“Rest,” Peggy breathed, a hand buried into Steve’s hair. “You’re safe with me.”

Who was he to argue? This is the safest he’s felt in a long time, even if the mystery of the world and what was at play still surrounded him. 


End file.
